


Hidden Agendas

by Lifeinahole



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Partners to Lovers, Sharing a Bed, Smut, short mentions of a riot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 18:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17309249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lifeinahole/pseuds/Lifeinahole
Summary: Working together for as long as they have, Emma and Killian have spent plenty of time sharing rooms on work trips. That’s what happens when you’re the only two single members of the seniority team of security. This time, however, with a sold out hotel to blame, they’re sharing more than just a room.





	Hidden Agendas

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be one of the "bits" I wrote for my Christmas cards this year, but it ended up more than a "bit" - it turned into a whole damn fic.

“Oh, fuck me,” she grumbles. It’s not quite under her breath but not purposefully loud enough for her partner to hear.

“That’s a little more direct than I expected from you, Swan. Should I close the door, at least?”

Emma turns, giving Killian a look that she hopes is the definition of withering. Unfortunately, he’s not deflating. If anything, he’s puffing up more, his eyes twinkling with his humor as his smile grows. He nudges her a little to move out of the doorway, taking care to wheel in both their suitcases while she has both their garment bags over her arm. He gets caught on her laptop case, trying to separate his own from hers as they struggle in the doorway. Finally, he’s free, and he stops just inside when the rest of the room becomes visible, his chuckles from their little dance in the entryway dying immediately.

“Oh, bloody hell.” _And_ , there it is. He finally catches the reason for her immediate disdain a moment ago, staring at the one king size bed that dominates the room.

“Mm _hmm_ ,”she hums, turning and letting the door swing shut. It would be more satisfying to slam it shut but she doesn’t need the hotel chewing out their head of ops because of damage to a doorway thanks to Emma… again.

“I thought they said we had a double when they booked it for us!”

“Well, either someone doesn’t know what a ‘double’ means or someone fucked up our reservation. Either way, I’m placing my bets on Wendy.”

“Maybe Nolan got our double by accident?”

“He posted to the group chat about twenty minutes ago. He’s definitely in a king.”

“Give me a key. I’ll come back up after I get my own room and grab my items.”

“They don’t have any,” she says before he can even reach for the key jacket. With an air of defeat, she drags herself over to the foot of the bed and drops onto it, immediately falling back with their garment bags in tow. “Nolan called to try to block three more rooms the other day and they were oversold. We can do this, Jones. It’s only four nights.”

He looks uneasy, and she feels the same way, but not because she’s worried about two adults sharing a king size bed. It’s because she has wanted her security partner for longer than she wants to admit and after three nights in a row with wet dreams, Starring Killian Jones, she’s not really sure how she plans on relaxing enough to sleep.

“Right, just four nights,” he finally echoes. He sighs, loudly, walking around one side of the bed, the one he’s apparently claiming as his, and hoists his suitcase up. There’s a single chest of drawers beneath the television, and Emma watches half-interestedly as he quickly and efficiently unpacks. She’s not used to seeing the process, because when they _do_ share a room, they’re not usually so… on top of each other, so to speak. He seems to have a system, some set order that he has to follow as he empties the small carry-on that’s identical to her own.

That’s a perk of being security to Governor Mills, she supposes. Their travel items and wardrobe for events are all provided, since Regina has this thing about aesthetics and matching. God forbid someone show up with a different suitcase, or wearing a jacket she doesn’t approve of.

Whatever, she can’t really complain, especially when she finally hauls herself off the bed to start her own unpacking. They have a property sweep tonight, a briefing in the morning, and then the rest of the day will be spent looking menacing and quietly fucking off with Jones, Nolan, Lucas, and the others. The rest of the trip will all be smaller jobs, but tomorrow’s Town Hall is the main event.

They’re always the odd ones out – Emma and Killian – because the rest are all paired off and, on the occasions they have longer trips, they bring their spouses and significant others with them. This trip is too short, and there’s a good chance that the only one with a significant other is Mayor Mills herself, since she does have her “personal security” of Robin. No one’s allowed to say it out loud but the two of them have been banging for at least two years now.

David has his charming little Snow White at home, Ruby has her girlfriend Mulan who also works security gigs like they do, and then they’re the two castoffs, Emma and Killian.

Emma’s unpacking is a little less refined than Killian’s. She’s doing little more than chucking her clothes into the top drawer on the side that Killian left empty for her, and he scoffs when he sees her method. It’s just her street clothes and under garments. It’s not like it’s a big deal.

“This is who I am, Jones. You know this,” she says, heaping the last of the fabric – a bundle of bras and underwear and tights and socks – into the last of the space available. The next drawer down sits empty, waiting for her to shove dirty clothes into. Her casual shoes all go in the bottom drawer, because she can.

“Indeed, love. Indeed.” At that, he takes his toiletry bag and shaving kit and goes to line them up on the vanity, probably with a ruler so nothing is out of line.

With a raised eyebrow and a quick glance to make sure he’s going to be occupied for a minute, she silently pulls open the top drawer on Killian’s side and has to stop herself from slamming it back in with a groan. His boxers are all folded and lined up, his socks in neat little bundles beside them. She knows for a fact that if she were to open the next one, it would have his undershirts and the bottom one would have his jeans, and probably a hoodie. This is just who Killian is. Using extra care as to not disturb his precious work, Emma closes the drawer and turns away from the dresser.

Next comes out her own toiletries bag, and she closes the suitcase before tucking it into the closet. In an attempt to appease the master of organization, she makes sure to hang each of their garment bags, putting his suit on one side of the closet with room below for his own carryon, and hers on the other side.

They each have laptop bags to unpack, still, but with less space it’s going to be tricky. She tries to make sure she doesn’t take up too much room on the small desk, placing her headset and her laptop on the smooth surface and tucking her bag next to the nightstand on her side of the bed.

It’s all worth it to bring a little of his style to their shared space, because when Killian finally does exit the bathroom, he sees the closet and nods in approval, going to retrieve his own bag to place in the space left so he can close it up. He sees the desk set up, giving another small sigh but smiling at Emma as he putters on.

“Thanks for leaving room for me, Swan,” he says as they switch. He starts to plug in his chargers next to his side of the bed and takes out his laptop as Emma takes her toiletries to the bathroom, not even really looking as she gives him a nod of acknowledgement.

Sure enough, Killian’s items are already lined up, and she sweeps her eyes over each one, wondering which one of the unmarked bottles (a color-coded system, for fuck’s sake, Jones) is the one that makes him smell like heaven, or sex appeal, or post-coital bliss. She doesn’t touch any of them, just ripping open her own hanging bag to extract her deodorant and throw her travel bottles in the shower. She leaves out her toothbrush and toothpaste, settling her own perfume next to them, and lets her make-up tumble to her side of the vanity in a pile of disarray. Whatever, it works.

When she walks out, Killian is sitting in the spot she vacated to start unpacking, a change of clothes in his lap while he scrolls through something on his phone.

“Are we meeting the team up at the venue or here at the hotel? As soon as I change, I’ll be ready to go.”

“The lobby, then out to eat, _then_ to the venue,” Emma says, moving back to the drawer she just stuffed full of her half-folded clothes. “Don’t come out until I give the clear,” she tells him, turning her back as he gives an affirmative, and she starts digging in earnest. When she hears the door click shut, the race is on.

They do this every time they work together, but usually it’s in separate rooms. Usually it’s whoever can make it to the lobby first. One time, she took the stairs, skipping whole sections and feeling the rush of victory when she went barreling into the lobby two seconds before the elevator doors opened and Killian stepped out assuming he’d already won when he shut the doors on her face on the tenth floor.

Off go the shoes and socks, left in a pile with her yoga pants and t-shirt. For the sake of comfort, she even grabs a new pair of underwear, doing her best to put on all the new items while simultaneously chucking the worn stuff into the middle drawer. She’s just finished zipping her other boot when Killian wrenches open the door, hoping by looks alone that he got the win.

“You didn’t reapply your perfume,” he says. She also hasn’t touched up her make-up, but she won’t concede.

“It’s optional. I don’t _need_ to do it in order to be ready to go.”

She smiles sweetly, especially in the face of his scowl, and she waits by the door for him to stash his dirty clothes and grab his wallet and phone.

“Call it a draw,” she says, finally, reaching for the leather jacket he grabs from the back of the chair at the desk.

“Aye, fine, whatever,” he still grumbles, but he’s smirking this time.

They’re still down in the lobby before the others, and they verbally harass each other with each new turn they play in Words with Friends until they’re joined. They’ve always found their groove in small competitions.

The rest of the night is easy. They all get dinner, a meeting of camaraderie that comes with people who have worked together for so long, before heading over to the venue for a security sweep.

They eyeball the places they’ll all be stationed tomorrow, as well as where they’ll position the rest of the security team. She remembers being one of the younglings, being one of the ones that didn’t have a choice or say in the matter, being one of the least informed members of the team. Now, she’s one of five minds that runs the whole operation, even if Hood stays closer to Mills instead of spending time with them anymore.

As David and Ruby complete the backstage sweep, Killian drops into one of the plush chairs in the theater Governor Mills will be speaking in tomorrow. It’s all old, but everything is still luxurious and well-maintained, and she’d love to see something more like a musical in this place if she could. She wanders over to where Killian is sitting, slouched down and leaning back with his eyes closed. She drops onto the seat next to him, easily resting her head on his shoulder. They’ve been on the road since six this morning, and the day has not only caught up to them, but surpassed them.

It’s still bound to take time before the other two finish up, especially when she hears Robin’s voice join the others. She tunes them all out, instead shifting as Killian does so they can find the perfect napping position. It happens to be his head resting against her own, his coat bunched up on the arm rest so it doesn’t dig into her ribs. She’s curled up and angled towards him, her head still on his shoulder and his arm easily looped around her waist. She thinks his prosthetic is resting on his thigh but she doesn’t bother to open her eyes to look, just reaches out to find it and happens to leave her own hand resting on it.

For security team leaders, they sure are oblivious to the looks and whispers directed at them from the stage. Ruby takes out her phone and snaps a few pictures, making sure to post one to her private Instagram using the Superzoom with hearts on it. David makes sure to snap one of his own and send it to Snow, making up for the thousands of times Emma and Killian have called the other couple Prince Charming and Snow White.

Robin just sighs, wishing the two idiots out in the audience would wake up already and figure out they’re together, that they’ve been together as long as he and Regina have been together. At least he and the Governor accepted their feelings and did something about them. These two, on the other hand, have been living firmly in denial. He wonders if Wendy really messed up their reservation or if she did it on purpose to try to spark them into acting on their attraction to one another.

Whatever it was, the other three finish their sweep, going over details and making sure they’re all locked and wrapped up before going to wake them.

“Off we go, you two,” Robin says gently, resting his hand on Killian’s free shoulder. Ruby heads for Emma, shaking her awake and pulling her from her seat.

Emma does her best to shed the sleepiness until they can get back to the hotel, but it’s a difficult task. Ruby pulls her along, whispering in her ear something about how adorable they looked curled up in the theater together, but she waves it off with a small smile.

“That’s just how Jones and I work.”

It feels like a hollow excuse. It feels like she’s trying to convince _herself_ , and that it’s not working… desperately not working.

Thankfully, she’s too tired when they get back to the hotel to worry about how this is all going to work. Even Killian, Mr. Folds-his-dirty-underwear, barely spares a moment to change into what looks like the softest pair of flannel pants known to mankind and leaves his clothes to the side of the dresser. They take turns getting ready for bed in the bathroom and then Emma extinguishes the last light when she crawls into the bed after making sure her phone alarm is set and everything is charging.

They’re both gone from consciousness as soon as their heads hit their pillows.

A loud clatter next to her wakes Emma up, but not that full-wake you get when you think someone is breaking into your house. It’s that startled sleep that you’d rather sink back into. That’s where she’s at, when she hears the mumbles and grumbles from Killian coming from somewhere behind her, and she rolls towards him, reaching out a hand to see where he is before cracking one eye open when she finds the sheets beside her devoid of one Killian.

“What are you doing?” she croaks, her voice unsteady from the way she was probably snoring.

“Didn’t take off my brace,” Killian says quietly. “Sorry I woke you, love.”

She hums, unable to form words, instead settling back into her pillow. When Killian stretches out again, her hand is still on his side of the bed. They both make noises, some fusion of content and accepting as her fingers tuck under his bicep. His skin is warm, and she sighs as it starts to fight off the chill she gets in her fingertips at night. She drifts back off to sleep just like that, a sense of peace settling over her features.

The next time she wakes, it’s just before her alarm, and she opens her eyes despite desperately wanting to curl up under the covers for another hour. Tomorrow – tomorrow they’ll sleep in as late as they want to before it’s time to meet in the afternoon. The other side of the bed is empty, and it takes Emma a second to recognize the sounds of the shower running, and the _very faint_ sound of Jones humming through the soft cascade of water.

 _Torture_ , she thinks. Utter torture, and no one to blame but the both of them, and nothing to be done until they can figure out what they want.

Upon further inspection, Emma wonders just how long Killian has been awake. His clothes from the day before are gone from sight, and she can see he’s pulled both of their garment bags from the closet in preparation for their day. She sits up, the blankets bunching in her lap as she rubs at her eyes and reaches for her phone, but there’s a knock on the door.

“One moment!” she hears Killian call from inside the bathroom. She doesn’t have a chance to move from the bed before he’s whipping open one door and reaching for another, nothing but a towel wrapped around his lower half as he speaks with someone beyond where she can see. “No, no. My partner is sleeping. I’ve got it,” he assures them, and then the door shuts a moment later.

When Killian turns, Emma is still unable to really string together even a bare minimum “good” and “morning” and yet she still manages a husky “Your towel is coming undone,” nearly causing him to drop the whole tray that’s balanced on his left wrist and forearm.

“Bloody hell, Swan, don’t give a man a heart attack!”

“Sorry,” Emma says, trying to keep the humor out of her voice as she swiftly moves from the bed and goes to retrieve what definitely smells like breakfast if the heavenly scent coming from under the cloches is to be trusted.

Killian doesn’t even hesitate in letting her take it, instead turning his attention back to securing his towel and telling Emma to dig in while he gets changed. She can’t help it; she stares after him as he walks back to the bathroom, the towel hugging his ass so perfectly that she just wants to press her hand against it once to see what it would feel like; warm wet terry with a touch of firm muscle, she believes.

“Fuck, I need coffee,” she mutters, maneuvering the tray onto the desk between their computers and reaching for the small pot that will begin her caffeine intake for the day. Once she has a cup poured and sugared to her specifications, she moves about the room, turning on lights and shoving her glasses on her face before picking up her phone and checking her mail.

She doesn’t touch the food until Killian comes out of the bathroom, a t-shirt and boxer-briefs and socks in place this time. His hair is combed, parted on the side and swept so it doesn’t fall in his eyes. She wordlessly holds out a coffee cup to him, which he shows gratitude for with a smile and a wink. She hides her wobbly smile behind her coffee cup as she takes a large sip.

“You ordered, you divvy. I’m gonna use the bathroom.”

She still has to shower, but for right now she just tries to get her eyes to stay open and her mind focused. She needs to stop ogling her partner, first and foremost.

When she comes back out, Killian has two plates revealed, and he’s sitting on the edge of the bed in just his slacks and undershirt as he grazes his food and checks his emails. He motions to the chair and her own food, and she grins down at the filling breakfast that awaits her. Normally, she would just grab a packet of Pop Tarts on her way out the door, but he always seems to make sure she’s fed and caffeinated when they’re on these trips together.

As soon as she’s full, Emma offers the rest of her plate to him. Normally this would go the other way around, but she’s behind in getting ready, even if they are up a little earlier. By the time she’s out of the shower and has her hair and make-up done, Killian is fully dressed except for his jacket.

They’re all required to wear the tailored black suits that they get from Regina’s tailor, but it’s Emma’s choice to wear the tie and heels. Those were never specifications that Regina made, but ones she and Ruby decided on and stick to for a large majority of the jobs they work.

She’s not tooting her own horn but she knows Ruby is going to lose her shit when she sees Emma’s new Jimmy Choo heels that she got on sale. Just like Emma and Killian have their weird competitions, she and Ruby have one with their footwear choices.

It takes the two of them working together to get their headsets on and tucked away, adding their jackets last. Emma waits until the very last second to slip on her shoes, knowing she can handle the whole day with them on but wanting to give her toes as much relief as possible. When they get back to the room tonight, she’ll likely spend a couple minutes soaking in the tub to chase away all the aches.

The Town Hall _was_ going really well, in all their opinions, but then the unexpected came to play. There was a scuffle in the back, a lot of shouting, and then pandemonium broke loose when someone pulled a fire alarm. The surge of the crowd nearly knocked her on her ass for a couple terrifying seconds, but even worse, she loses Killian for a few minutes. She does her best to regain her balance and instead calm down the people closest to her and stop them from stampeding.

Killian finally reappears behind her what feels like hours later, his hand warm and immediately comforting on her back, and he whispers that he’s going to check in with the others as she ushers out the last of the audience. She nods, barely registering why he’s telling her in person instead of calling over the radio, but she feels him place his jacket over her shoulders before he walks away.

It’s only then that she realizes she left her jacket in the wings of the stage somewhere, and her shirt ripped almost all the way open from when she almost fell and someone’s hand connected with the fabric. She takes a second to loosen her tie and throw it to the ground before she turns to do the same with the remains of her shirt. She fastens the buttons of Killian’s jacket over her bra and turns back to business, finally hearing from Ruby out front that the entrance is clear.

“Theater is all empty,” she says back, listening for the others to keep reporting.

The local police are finally here, and David and a few of the younglings have the culprits involved in inciting the riot. Robin and Regina got out of here as soon as everything started getting chaotic. In fact, they get their all-clear message from Robin just as they’re all reconvening.

“What happened to you?” Emma asked, finally getting a better look at Killian. His tie is loosened but still in place, his sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. He grimaces as an EMT checks his pupils and affixes a butterfly bandage to a now-clean cut above his eye.

“I went running for the back when Nolan sent out the first distress call, but a man on the end panicked and shoved me out of his way as he turned to run. I lost my earpiece somewhere out there,” he says, nodding his head towards the theater. “What a bloody mess.”

“Thanks for the jacket,” Emma says when he’s released from being checked out.

“Of course, Swan. As much as I love seeing all the benefits of how hard you work at the gym, I wasn’t sure how much you wanted to show off.”

“Normally? I’ll show the world if I feel like it. While dealing with a crisis? Not so much.”

Over her radio, David announces that they’ll have to give their statements to the police and then they’re free for the rest of the evening. Everything else is rescheduled for later the next day so they can all recuperate from this adventure.

It’s a short ordeal, their statements, and then David waves them off. “I can take care of the rest from here. You guys are free to go.” He gives them a pointed look, his eyes darting down to their hands, and it’s the first time Emma realizes they’re holding hands. Have been. For like, an hour now.

Oh boy.

They’re silent on the way back to the hotel, one of the hired cars taking them back after Emma had collected her discarded tie and shirt and jacket. Once back in the room, she immediately kicks off her shoes (thankfully coming out of the whole ordeal unscathed) and throws the tattered and trampled garments onto the floor. When the door shuts behind her, she feels that irrepressible sensation well up in her and realizes that Killian is asking her something about ordering more room service but she can’t concentrate on that.

Instead, she turns and tugs him towards her by his tie and kisses him. His phone drops to the floor, and while he’s initially shocked, it doesn’t really take long for him to catch up. Soon, his left arm and prosthetic are holding her body close, his hand anchored on the nape of her neck above the collar of his jacket.

There are no words, only actions, and her actions right now are focused on unbuttoning his shirt and removing his tie before going for his belt buckle. He’s not a passive participant, but all he’s really managed is to get his hand under the fabric of the jacket, his palm hot on her bare skin, feeling like he’s searing his handprint onto her mid-back.

She’s just managed to get his shirt off his shoulders when he catches one of her hands in his own.

“You… Swan, you’ve got to give me a moment. It’s about bloody time, but I need to catch my breath.”

All Emma can do is nod, a smile blooming on her lips as they breathe in each other’s space. The hand he’s not holding is resting on his chest, and she kicks herself to actually open her eyes and look at him again.

The second their eyes meet, Killian’s smile glows brighter, matching her own.

“You okay?”

“Aye. You?”

“Yeah, just… You disappeared. You’re always right there and you disappeared and I kind of panicked when I got thrown into that wall.”

“I wouldn’t have moved from your side if I’d known the crowd was going to panic that much.”

She’s shaking her head, because the last thing she wants is for him to be anything less than perfect at his job by worrying about her. “No, you did what you were supposed to. We both did. But I just… I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever been with. I can’t lose you, too.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, love. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s surviving.”

She chuckles, because she’s heard him say this so many times before, but this is only the second time she’s seen it in action. Or third. Or fourth? Maybe he doesn’t have to keep proving it to her, then.

“Killian,” she whispers, his name some question and answer all in one. Instead of saying more, she goes back to unzipping his pants. He’s just nibbling the pads of her fingers when his breath stutters out.

“This is a bit of a fast progression. Are you sure, Swan?”

“Does it feel like we should slow down?” she asks. Her fingers glide along the cleft of his ass over his boxer briefs, pushing his slacks the rest of the way off his hips as she does so. Because she hasn’t broken contact, she gets to watch the way his eyes darken as her hand continues its exploration, the way the tip of his tongue plays at the corner of his mouth, and then how he shakes his head. “Would you like to sleep with me tonight?” They can ignore the fact that it’s barely evening yet.

“Aye,” he says, the single word husky and so, so low. Her other hand strokes along his cheek, moving briefly to the cut above his eye and the butterfly bandage still in place.

“Good,” she responds, using that verification to urge him to sit at the foot of the bed – _their_ bed – the one that had seemed a minor inconvenience just over 24 hours ago but now eliminates the possible question of “Yours or Mine?” Instead, she helps him lay back, her body hovering over his, her knees on either side of his thighs, her hands on his cheeks and framing his face as his hand glides along her thigh.

She’s still wearing his jacket, but she’s in no hurry to remove it besides taking a moment to sit up and flick open the button. He watches with rapt attention as she does so, allowing him more glimpses of her skin. _This_ is how she prefers to show off the hours she spends training. Not by accident when someone claws her shirt in panic. Killian lifts his hands, urging her to stand once more.

Teetering for a second, she steadies herself with her hands on his shoulders, with Killian’s soft chuckle pressed against the smooth skin of her stomach. “Do you have protection?” he asks, looking up at her from his sitting position, his hand going to the fastenings of her slacks before he eases them off of her.

Emma hums in pleasure, her eyes fluttering closed as Killian’s fingers trail along her own ass, mimicking her actions from before. The only difference is that she’s wearing a thong, so he’s already skin on skin contact and her brain is short circuiting as she gets closer to nirvana.

“Swan?”

“You can’t expect me to function properly when you’re doing that,” she finally responds, remembering that he’d even asked a question in the first place and breaking away with a disappointing noise echoing from both of them. She goes for her shower essentials, finding the line of foils that she stashes in the front compartment when she’s heading out of town. Now, she _knew_ she was rooming with Killian this time around, so she can’t even pretend she didn’t bring them for this exact purpose.

“I only asked if you had any because otherwise, there are some in the second drawer,” he says when she returns, leaning back on his elbows and spread out for her explorations. His shirt is off, so he’s left in just his underwear which suits her just fine. When he moves to sit back up, she stops him with a hand on his chest and a kiss to his lips.

“Don’t move,” she instructs, stepping back for a moment to slide his jacket off her shoulders and hang it over the back of the computer chair. While she’s at it, she reaches back and unsnaps her bra, leaving that draped over the chair, as well. When they’re even in their states of undress, she turns to him again, and Killian’s eyes wander across each of her features. From her skewed ponytail to her face, from face to neck and décolletage, and down across her now-bare chest. His eyes linger at her waist before looking further down where she wants him right now, but his eyes sweep right back up to meet with hers again.

“You look stunning, Swan.”

She blushes under the weight of the compliment, knowing full-well that he’s seen her in just about every state of unkempt to dressy, but that this compliment is different than all the others. It’s not _just_ because she’s mostly naked, because he’d be looking below her neck if that’s how he meant it. But it’s the sincerity of the words that causes a lump of emotion in her throat, causes her to move forward again and climb into his lap to kiss him all over again.

They settle on Killian being on top after several minutes of kissing and touch, and Emma willingly settles back against the pillows in the middle of the bed while he divests her of her underwear, shedding his own before reaching for a condom. He seems to get distracted, however, and instead of rolling one on, he sets it close by in favor of drawing his fingers around her clit. He spreads her open for just a moment in order to taste and tease her there, his tongue flicking rapidly over her as her hands find purchase in his hair.

With any other man, she was lucky if she managed one half of a good orgasm, but Killian is doing his best to give her one whole, fantastic, mind-blowing one before he even starts to fuck her, which is pretty damn phenomenal in her book. Conscious of the fact that they’re in a hotel and it’s still early enough that people are going to and from dinner, Emma grabs one of the pillows and holds it over her face as she comes, calling his name with each wave of pleasure that rocks through her.

After a few moments, she reaches back down to simultaneously drag him away from where he’s still bringing her down and to pull him up to kiss her again as she flings away the pillow with her other hand. As her tongue flicks around his mouth to thank him without words, Killian presses the condom into Emma’s palm, silently asking for assistance. She breaks the kiss just long enough to partially sit up, watching her own actions as she tears, and places, and rolls, and strokes – watches the way Killian bites his lip against the pleasure he could probably come from.

When he’s closer than he wanted to be, he grabs her hand, bringing it up to his chest to place against his racing heartbeat as he moves forward and finally sinks into her.

“ _Fuck_ , you feel amazing,” she whispers, and Killian returns the sentiments as he hitches one of her legs higher on his waist, opening her up in order to fully settle between her thighs. When he bottoms out, they both swear and sigh, and then he starts moving.

He doesn’t fuck like some wild animal; no, there’s a system to it – it’s thrust, thrust, circle, thrust, circle, circle, thrust. It’s slow and deep and steady as he builds her closer to climax once more, somehow staving off his own in the process of wanting to make it count. It only takes a couple repeats of that cycle for Emma to pull him down, to hide her rising volume by kissing him breathless all over again.

He’s just begun to toy with one of her nipples when she hits her capacity again, arching up to meet him and calling his name just once, loudly, as her eyes slide shut with blinding pleasure. It’s only then that Killian speeds up, losing the pattern he’d been building for her benefit in order to bring her over the edge. He still doesn’t hump her like a dog in heat, though, but rather pumps into her like a man on a mission as his fingers glide along her throat.

Just as she’s losing the ability to hold her legs around his waist any longer, she bits her lip and looks up at him, holding eye contact as he keeps moving. His expression is one of deep concentration, and when he reaches his hand between them to stroke her clit once more, she knows he’s determined to give her one more to coincide with his own. Her own fingers find her breasts, triggering one more sated flutter, and that’s enough for him; the noise he makes is desperate and broken, and he thrusts harder than before, burying himself inside her as they both ride out the pleasure.

When he rests on top of her, she drops her feet back to the bed, bracketing his hips with her legs and enjoying the solid weight of him for as long as he needs to rest there.

“Swan,” he says as he lifts his head again, his hair mussed up from her hands and sweat beading across his forehead – he doesn’t continue, just looks at her, drinking in the details.

“Yeah,” she murmurs breathlessly, reaching up to push his hair off his forehead as she smiles at him. “I know.”

He gives her another slow kiss before pulling away, pulling out, and rolling off the bed to clean himself up. She takes another minute to make sure her legs will work when she stands up before she follows him into the bathroom. He’s just washing his hand when she moves to stand behind him, her hands splayed across his chest as she hugs him from behind. With cool water still dripping from his skin, he rests his fingers on top of hers. She kisses his shoulder, peering over it to look at their reflections standing there.

“So, room service and more sex?”

“Absolutely,” she agrees, shuffling around as he turns and accepting the soft kiss he bestows upon her. “Order us some food while I clean myself up?” His response is lost somewhere in her hair as he embraces her again, and she never wants to put on clothes again if this is what he feels like pressed against her, skin to skin. With another kiss pressed to her temple, he leaves her to her own and pulls the door shut behind him.

Emma washes her face quickly, not caring about getting it all but focused on getting the smudges off. It’s only then she realizes she’s famished, having skipped lunch in order to prep for the Town Hall. She’s just thankful they were in some small town instead of one of the bigger cities, or else they’d likely still be tied up at the venue trying to give statements and going through security procedures. But this worked out much better, as far as she’s concerned.

Killian is lounging across the bed, sadly already dressed in his pajama pants again. He’s looking at his phone, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“What is it?”

“David sent a group chat for us to join him in the lobby restaurant.”

“Did you order our food already?”

“I was just about to when I checked my phone.”

“Well, let’s go?”

He looks at her, one of those eyebrows now raised.

“Do you not want to?” she asks, starting to fidget beneath his gaze.

“I’d love nothing more, but I wanted to be sure you wanted to, first. Swan, I have no intention of hiding my affection for you from this point forward. You understand that, correct?”

She nods, a little enthusiastically if she says so herself. “Yeah. And same. So, what time are we meeting?”

“He just got back to the hotel. Said he wanted to change and would meet us down there in a half hour.” He pulls himself off the bed again and approaches her, using the fingers of his prosthetic to tilt her face up to his. “I suppose that means you and I should both put some clothes on.”

“Cancel with him. That’s just unreasonable,” Emma jokes, laughing as she lifts up to kiss him again as his arms wrap around her. She hums contentedly before they break away, letting her hands linger on his shoulders for another moment more before she finally turns to rummage through her clothes.

She’s looking for fresh underwear and a bra, trying her best to untangle several items that seem to have knotted together while she was unpacking. She’s so focused on her own situation that she barely notices Killian slide up next to her and extract his own clothing. It’s not until she holds up a pair of underwear in victory that he coughs, and she turns to see him fully dressed, perched on the edge of the bed. The asshole is even already wearing his shoes.

“Anytime now, Swan,” he drawls, and if she didn’t have to immediately put them on, she’d throw her clothes at him in aggravation.

“Okay, fine! You win this one!”

Behind her, he chuckles as she mock-pouts and slides into her under garments. She finds a pair of leggings and slips those on, as well, before she grabs his dress shirt off the floor and slips that on.

“I look forward to removing that shirt from you later,” he comments as she collects herself, and she makes sure to throw an appropriately saucy smile over her shoulder at him as she ties her hair into a messy bun and slips into her heels again. She’ll be damned if she’s wasting their inaugural trip because of a scuffle.

No one blinks an eye when they walk into the restaurant hand in hand, not even the two younglings that have been invited to join. Henry did always seem much too keen to be safe, and Grace is his partner in crime as far as she can tell. They smile knowingly as Emma and Killian settle in on the other side of the table.

They’re all a little bruised and battered, besides Killian’s cut forehead. Henry has a bruise forming around his eye, Grace has an icepack resting on the table for her elbow, Ruby has a splint around two fingers on her right hand, David’s knuckles look like they got in a good swing, and Emma knows for certain there’s a bruise forming on her ass from the contact with the wall. It’s not even for a good, sex-related reason.

Overall, their dinner is quiet and full of some of their worst and best jobs. The longer time goes on, the closer she and Killian get, until his arm is looped over her shoulders and Emma is pressed against his side. It all just feels so natural, and that’s probably because she’s been claiming this is how they work for ages now. It was all just a precursor to dating.

When they head back to their room, Emma swipes through social media while Killian deals with a call from Robin to figure out if his headset was ever located.

A noise of annoyance creeps out without her knowledge, and Killian turns towards her as he listens to the man on the other end of the phone call. Emma shakes her head, unable to stop the smile on her face and handing over her phone. Killian looks down on the image and smiles, winking before he turns back to his call.

Meanwhile, Emma texts Ruby and asks for the original image, a shot of them standing and waiting for the elevators. Emma’s tucked against him, his lips on her forehead, her eyes closed as her hands rest on his back. Ruby has applied bright, glowing letters that say “Finally!” in front of the image, but really, she feels the same way.

When their work is all wrapped up for the evening, Killian shuts down his laptop and plugs in his phone. Emma does the same, ensuring that the alarm is set for a decent hour but otherwise silencing it. From that moment on, she only wants Killian pulling at her attention, and he clearly feels the same way.

When they fall asleep that night, they’re in the middle of the bed instead of on opposite sides, perfectly comfortable and content.

Maybe she owes Wendy a gift basket.


End file.
